Desolate (Empathy #2)
Ker Dukey
NOTE TO READER:
To fully enjoy this title you would have already devoured Empathy, the book where this journey began. Thank you for embracing these perverse characters, Ryan has earned his place in my heart and I hope you can make a space for him in yours . . . even if he is totally twisted. This book is the work of fiction any resemblance to any person alive or dead or characters names is purely coincidental
For the reader’s who demanded more from my dark, depraved Ryan.
He refused to leave me alone and commanded I torture you further.
Enjoy.
Stacey
Thank you! For albeit a coincidence, bracing the fact that I have all your names as characters. I deny being your stalker, but don’t forget you left the bath running.
Thank you for always making my books pretty with your insane skills
I LOOK DOWN AT THE red stains on my clothes. The soul that withered and died by my hands leaving its memory imprinted inside me was just that now; a reminiscence of a life I stole.
The rush of her depleting pulse didn’t feel as therapeutic as the others, she was different but I wasn’t. I still took her life.
“The blood is so red on my hands,” I murmur, holding them up to the light seeping through the curtains from a streetlight outside. The soft glow highlights the crimson painting my palms, the blood long since dried and sticky on my skin.
“It never bothered me before, but her blood was so . . . red. The warm flow trickled through my fingers as the knife buried into her flesh. I felt her life fade. For the first time I felt something other than the darkness. Something other than the satisfaction of the kill, I felt disappointment,” I whisper into the night, surprised by my own revelation.
“Ryan. Tell me why you’re here. What happened? Why do you have blood on you?”
I look up into the soft, worried eyes of my psychiatrist, Jenna. I came straight here using the key I had made from her set. I let myself in, making enough noise to alert her to an arrival, but not enough to call the police; not that it matters much anyway, she won’t get the chance now.
“I killed her! The light died in her eyes as the knife sliced into her, her shock making her breathe ‘why?’ as the blood leaked from her wound, her green eyes so expressive, so confused.” I look up at Jenna to gauge her reaction.
“Ryan,” she breathes, holding up her hands and starting to take a step towards me. I point the knife in her direction, halting her. I must have woken her because her hair is in disarray. She’s wearing a white silk nightgown hanging to mid-thigh and I know she’s bare beneath it; her nipples are hard and pushing through the fabric from the chills racing through her body. She’s trembling, and she should be scared. I want to strip her naked and make shallow cuts in her skin, drawing the kill out, replacing the blood already on my hands with hers.
“Start from the beginning, Ryan. Start from when you were released.”
I smirk in her direction. She’s using stall tactics like a pro. I will start from the beginning but I already know what the ending will be.
Her white gown tainted red.
8 months earlier
“STOP PLAYING WITH YOUR NEW toy and go get the paper,” Melody chides in a playful manner from a few feet away.
I tear myself away from the new coffee machine I insisted we didn’t need but since declared we can’t live without. She’s always right when it comes to this stuff. I smile at my sexy woman, standing with her hair in disorder and my shirt slipped over her shoulders, open so it just teases her nipples and hangs enticingly down her frame, ending at her lace covered pussy. I raise an eyebrow and zero my eyes in on her panties.
“You put panties on for our coffee break?” I ask with a smirk.
It’s my day off work, technically, but with a job like mine that break could end at any moment. Criminals don’t work around me and now I’m captain of our detective division, if someone decides to go on a killing spree or even something less dramatic, my day off will end.
On the rare occasions I get time off we usually do something as a family but our baby girl is more interested in spending time with her girlfriends than her folks these days. Damn, people tell you your children grow up fast and before you know they’re leaving for college, but you don’t actually think it’s true. My baby girl leaves for college next year. How time flies. The only good thing about Cereus spending all her time with her friends is that I get her mama, naked and horizontal . . . or vertical and any other way I can think of. As long as she’s naked, I’m easy.
I walk over to Melody and slip my hand inside the shirt, stroking her stomach my favorite part of her body. My hands trace the thin silver marks, proof our Cereus was created there; a life she nourished and grew inside her womb. That still amazes me, even after witnessing the nine months her tummy swelled and the seventeen years our baby grew up. Sometimes I see Melody’s eyes stare back at me through the eyes of our daughter. Pregnancy is a magical thing, and when pregnant, a woman looks her most stunning, in my opinion. I loved seeing Mel pregnant and I’m excited to see it all over again. We decided we want another child, and the baby making process is proving so much fun, I may want ten more.
“Mmm, forget the paper.” She giggles.
Her palm covers mine, our joined hands sliding down inside her panties, her wet heat from our earlier lovemaking still apparent between her slick folds. I push her backwards against the table, lifting her ass to sit on the edge, and nudge her knees apart. My cock grows achingly hard the closer it comes to its home. Leaning forward, my lips find her neck, and nuzzle, inhaling the soft hint of strawberries her lotion leaves. My shirt she’s wearing falls open, baring her tits to me, her pink rose bud nipples enticing me to taste them. I suck one into my mouth and relish her moan as her chest lifts to aid me, making me chuckle at my greedy wife. Sliding my hand up to her throat I grip her in my hold and add a small amount of pressure, guiding her to lay back with the subtle command. Releasing her nipple with a pop, her body moves back from mine to lie flat against the table. I can smell her arousal, making my mouth water with need to taste her.
“You shouldn’t have ruined another pair of panties, baby,” I tell her.
“What do you mean?”
I grin down at her lust-filled face, her flushed cheeks and glossy eyes, and tear at the lace panties. Her little gasp makes my cock pulse with desperation to be inside her vice-like walls but I need to have her on my tongue first. No matter how much time passes, our love and lust grows with each day. I can’t get enough of her and I never will.
Colleagues and friends talk about the spark waning, or some little tramp they have on the side because the wife won’t put out, but I can’t relate, thank fuck. My little spitfire can’t get enough of my cock, tongue, and fingers. She looks at me like I’m the only man in the world for her and I look back at her with the same intensity.
“Don’t just look at it, Blake,” she whines, impatient, making me grip her hips in a punishing hold. My baby likes me to be firm with her; she desires it more than anything else.
“I like looking at it, baby. It’s so pink and pretty,” I tease, leaning closer so my hot breath can torment her wet folds. Her little mews break my resolve.
“What do you want me to do, baby? Tell me.”
“Kiss me there,” she begs.
Fuck, I’m a weak man when it comes to this woman. My breathing is loud and uneven and just looking and smelling her is going to make me come in my pants. Snaking my tongue out to swipe at her pussy, her scent bursts onto my taste buds, igniting my craving to have her come all over my mouth.